


Makeup Magic

by photogiraffe77



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Makeup, Makeup Artists, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Ushi is a good husband, YouTube, beauty industry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photogiraffe77/pseuds/photogiraffe77
Summary: After his volleyball career came to an abrupt halt at the end of college courtesy of an unexpected ACL surgery, Oikawa had to come up with something new to love, a new passion. School was distracting enough until graduation, but his dreams had always been set on going pro. It left him feeling so lost and unsure of himself. With his degree, he was able to start a successful career in marketing, however, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted more. There was a hollow hole in his chest the perfect size and weight of a professional-grade volleyball, and it was going to be a difficult cavity to fill.///Or, the one where Oikawa discovers a new hobby and Ushijima is extremely supportive.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 35
Kudos: 171
Collections: Absolute Treasures That Hit Harder Than They Should Have





	Makeup Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adka2333](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adka2333/gifts).



> Hey y'all! This fic is a gift for my friend adka2333. Friend, I hope you enjoy this! Thanks for sharing in my UshiOi love and joining me on the 'dark side'. ;) You are an incredible human and I really appreciate you! I hope this gift conveys that.

After his volleyball career came to an abrupt halt at the end of college courtesy of an unexpected ACL surgery, Oikawa had to come up with something new to love, a new passion. School was distracting enough until graduation, but his dreams had always been set on going pro. It left him feeling so lost and unsure of himself. With his degree, he was able to start a successful career in marketing, however, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted _more_. There was a hollow hole in his chest the perfect size and weight of a professional-grade volleyball, and it was going to be a difficult cavity to fill.

The hunt was a taxing task of trial and error. Baking was fun for a bit, but the beautiful brunette quickly called that off once he realized just how much sugar went into his favorite margarita flavored cupcakes, let alone milk bread. (Who knew?!) His husband had enjoyed the treats, however, and so had the rest of the national team when Ushijima took batch after batch of confectionary sweets for the others to enjoy after practice. Bokuto was the most disappointed of all that his supply was being cut off, constantly hitting up the giant opposite hitter for the recipes so he could pass them along to his own spouse, Akaashi. Oikawa still enjoyed baking, but it was limited to a few times a month or for special occasions. 

The next hobby he tried was crocheting. Ushijima had been supportive about this one, too, which once included him using a very poorly assembled pot holder that ended up burning his hand when he went to remove a pan of baked chicken from the oven. Ever the good sport, however, he assured the shorter of the two husbands that ‘ _it’s fine, Tooru, it doesn’t even really hurt’_. Still, the burn ointment Oikawa had to apply to reddened and scalded fingertips did little to absolve him of his guilt. 

With making hot pads out the window, he continued the hunt for a new passion. After purchasing a really expensive fountain pen and a calligraphy book, Oikawa remembered that his own actual handwriting was a bit sloppy, so calligraphy was likely going to be a total fail (his suspicions were correct - it was). Reading was fun but it wasn’t as tactile as he wanted. And sci-fi movies were a given, but again, he wanted to create, to move, to do something hands-on. Books, movies, manga; they were all a good way to relax, he just wanted something a little bit _more_. If there was one thing that someone could say of Oikawa-Ushijima Tooru, it was that he didn’t back down from a challenge. Even if he was discouraged, he would keep trying. Surely it was just a matter of trial and error, right? 

The realization of his calling came after one of those ‘wine and paint’ nights hosted at the learning annex just a train ride away from their apartment building. Wakatoshi had come along with this one, too, because of course he did - the big, supportive jerk (read: sweetheart). Once upon a time, Oikawa would have gotten irritated as his enemy-turned-lover for being so perfect. But now, he was simply grateful. This whole process would have been exceptionally daunting without the unwavering support of his lover. 

During the whole class, Ushijima sat with his perfect posture in front of an easel, white smock completely free of paint splatter, a brush pressed methodically to the canvas, the bristles following the instructor’s example to the letter. With discerning, gold-green eyes, he followed every line, every angle, every dip and curve. Not many people knew this, but Ushijima wore reading glasses, and currently, the dark gray frames were slid halfway down his straight nose, his tongue stuck out slightly in the corner of his mouth as he applied great concentration to his painting.

Oikawa could only watch from beside his tall lover, already half-drunk on the peach wine they were serving at the back of the studio, fingers feeling a little fuzzy, chest warm at the sight. Maybe he was shit at this, too, but at least he looked pretty doing it. The date night afforded him a rare opportunity to get dolled up and go out, especially since Ushijima had been so busy on the road lately, doing interviews and press conferences for the upcoming Olympic games. They had gone to a lovely steak dinner before heading to the class. He had put on a great outfit and did his damndest to wing his eyeliner. Makeup wasn’t something he got to do often, but he thought the occasion called for it. 

“Your eyeshadow looks lovely this evening, Tooru,” Ushijima commented on the train ride home, the words whispered into his ear so as to not be heard by the other passengers. Their art was tucked into a canvas bag resting at Ushijima’s boots.

“Yeah?” he asked a bit sleepily, motor functions feeling a bit lazy and slow, a little affected by the three glasses he enjoyed during their painting lesson. The late spring air was a bit chilly, so he leaned up under Ushijima’s arm, the slight tickle of his sweater a welcome comfort along his cheek. 

“Of course,” Ushijima assured, tucking a chocolate lock of hair behind his ear, letting his fingers lazily grace the shell. “I think it brings out your eyes. You are good at that.”

Oikawa perked up then, glancing up at his husband with a curious expression, eyes shining beneath thick lashes and the fringe of his perfect bangs. “Good at what?”

“Doing your makeup.”

He sat up in his seat, the swift action causing his head to feel buoyant from the buzz he was currently sporting. “I am?”

Ushijima nodded. “Of course. Your eye shadow and lashes always look lovely.” To emphasize this, he carefully took the pad of this thumb and traced along the heavy row of bottom lashes, each groove of his fingertip feeling electrifying as it passed over every individual lash, his touch featherlight and reverent. 

“Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa purred, planting a kiss square on his husband’s mouth, onlookers be damned, “you giant genius.”

*

The first step was watching tutorials. Lots and lots and lots of tutorial videos on YouTube featuring a variety of artists and styles; brushes and supplies; ranging from subtle, every day looks to the bold and artistic featuring copious amounts of color and sass. Watching was no issue: he watched them while he cleaned the house, when he was curled up in bed beside his husband, and even during relaxing bubble baths in the tub. This was part of figuring out what he liked, what he didn’t like, and what he hoped to emulate. With each tutorial, he began to shape in his mind what he hoped to achieve and how envisioned his own style. 

The second step included multiple trips to Sephora. Of course, Ushijima tagged along for most of these, dutifully carrying the handbasket that was overflowing with all sorts of creams, sprays, powders, eyeshadow pallets, bottles of foundation, tubes of lipstick, and a contour kit, just to name a few. 

“Is this my color?” Oikawa asked for the hundredth time, rubbing a sample splotch on his wrist trying to find the perfect match for his foundation.

“I think that is the closest we have come thus far.” The stoic ace was actually good at feedback. Truly, he did try his hardest to discern between the shades, despite being entirely unfamiliar with the subject. Unsurprisingly, he even let Oikawa try a shade or two on his own face, just for fun. It was a test in color matching, after all, and Ushijima’s skin was a few tones darker than his own. The large Olympian even agreed to try a new lavender lotion for his face when he dried out after hot showers and give feedback. Like the lovestruck puppy dog he was, he took all of Oikawa’s advice. 

The third step was practical application. He had watched enough videos, purchased enough product: if he was going to do this, he had to do it for real. This step in the process proved to be the most fun, of course. Since he had a little knowledge already about makeup, it was relatively easy to figure out how to start. A good foundation was key, after all: he knew this from volleyball. He had always enjoyed doing his makeup, though had never strayed too far from the basics: light foundation to cover minor blemishes, nude or shimmery eyeshadow to complement his outfits, tinted lip gloss to be extra alluring in the bedroom, a winged eyeliner if he was feeling bold and wanted to grab someone’s (Wakatoshi’s) attention. 

But this was something different, next level, _more_. It checked all of his boxes - the need to be tactile, the fact that it was cathartic, and by the time he was done, Oikawa always felt more himself than he before, just like he did when playing the sport he missed so dearly.

The routine was simple. He would start by putting on his best upbeat playlist, pouring a glass of his favorite wine, and settling in front of the vanity mirror with his brushes and pallets spread out. Ushijima had even installed professional-grade lights above the vanity mirror in their bedroom, giving Oikawa the best lighting possible for his new hobby. After all, that was one of the cardinal sins of being a make-up artist: poor lighting. 

Getting to actually play around was a lot of fun. At first, he began by simply trying to copy some of the looks he saw online, using it as a guide to teach himself. Never before had he messed with contour or highlighting, and his first several attempts left him looking mismatched, or like glitter had thrown up all over his face. It did look a bit silly, though he would just wash it off and try again. 

But very quickly, he got better and better, and he wasn’t merely copying looks anymore: he was making them. On several occasions, Suga and Akaashi came over and let him practice on someone other than himself, getting the hang of shading and color matching, or how to bring out different eye colors using different pallets. Each man left the Ushijima-Oikawa household feeling bold and beautiful, and it made Oikawa’s heart soar. They even posed for a few photos that Oikawa could post on his blog, and Ushijima had come home from practice passing along compliments courtesy of both Bokuto and Daichi. 

“You should make a YouTube account,” came the suggestion one day when the two husbands were sitting side-by-side on the sofa, watching some new K-Drama that Oikawa had been obsessed with. 

“Hmm?” the slender brunette asked, cocking a manicured eyebrow high on his head, a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth.

“A channel to showcase your talents,” Wakatoshi clarified, turning to face his spouse. He looked almost… proud, at that moment, a glint in his otherwise calculating eyes. Only Oikawa got to see him like this, without the parameters of volleyball around him. Here, he was soft, sweet, thoughtful. In a way, Wakatoshi has always been like this, he just wasn’t willing to show many people. There was a vulnerability to it, and Oikawa would relish in the fact that it was just for him.

Intrigued, the beautiful brunette let the handful of his snack fall back into the bowl. “Do you really think I’m good enough?” 

“Of course. Even Kiyoomi commented on the work you did to Atsumu’s eyebrows, and he is not the type to hand out any sort of unmerited praise.” He very lovingly cupped Oikawa’s cheek in one of his massive hands, letting his thumb graze the apex of his cheekbone. “I think people would find it enjoyable to watch you as you work.”

*

With his husband’s encouragement and the purchase of a light ring and a DSLR camera, he had his set up ready to go. To start, the videos just included basic tutorials, the things he knew he had down for sure, as they were an almost daily occurrence. He shared some of his favorite skincare products, his beauty routine, how to properly exfoliate for various skin types. 

Within the first month, the channel grew considerably, most people leaving really kind and encouraging and comments. Some assholes left words of misogyny behind, but those people were promptly blocked - he wasn’t going to let anyone rain on his parade. Especially after the months of tireless searching for something to love. 

Then came the requests for various looks, the asks to try this new product, to explain the difference between a drop-eye and a cat-eye. He even went live a time or two, answering questions while doing his makeup for his subscribers - he almost had thirty thousand! And it wasn’t just his skills they enjoyed, apparently. His viewers found him funny and charismatic, his dynamic charm evident even through a camera lens. People left so many kind and encouraging comments, and Oikawa could really feel his heart soaring with the confirmation that he was doing the right thing, that his work was meaningful. 

When the busy season came for Wakatoshi and his schedule called for him to travel a lot, leaving Oikawa behind at their high-rise apartment, it was, admittedly, a bit lonely. There was no shame in acknowledging that, but it couldn’t be helped, either. Of course, he longed to also be a part of the national team, but those days were long behind him. All he could do now was wish his husband the best, to be as supportive of him as he was of Oikawa. It was only right.

One night, just a few days before the Olympics had begun, Oikawa was showcasing a new look for his viewers. In order to show a little national pride for his country and for his husband (and his best friend, who was the team’s athletic trainer), he did a tutorial on how to make a Japan-flag-inspired look using eyeshadow. With only two colors to work with, it was a bit of a challenge, but people on YouTube loved it. And when Oikawa showed up to the first match of the Olympics, he was brought to tears to see so many in the crowd sporting the look he had created.

(The tears ruined his makeup, but thanks to a certain ‘VIP Pass’, he got to use the locker room to touch it up again.)

That feeling, however, could never top seeing the look on Wakatoshi’s face as the entire Japanese team took their turn ducking their heads, a silver medal placed around each of their necks. Their captain had led them valiantly, and a hard-fought match against Italy left them in second place. Even if they had won gold, Oikawa could not have been prouder, for the most important piece of gold Wakatoshi would ever own was already on his left hand, shining beneath the bright stadium lights. He held up that powerful, dominant in a show of victory, waving to the crowd, the ring on display for all to see. 

Shortly after the Olympics, a new trend started circling around the YouTube community. As was famous for that particular social media site, people were issuing a ‘challenge’ of sorts. Normally, Oikawa didn’t do these, as he had yet to find one that really floated his boat. This one, however, greatly piqued his interest. 

“Ushiwaka-chan!” Oikawa announced one day at breakfast, settling in next to his giant husband, a coy glint in his hazel eye. “I have an idea for a video.”

Ushijima took a bite of his toast and met that gorgeous gaze, always attentive and eager to listen. Another surprising thing that Oikawa had come to discover about his partner of six years was that he was extremely good at brain-storming. Maybe it was just because he was such a methodical thinker, but damn. He was able to process Oikawa’s brain rot and organize it in a way that was easy to understand, even taking notes with that infuriating perfect kanji of his. 

“What are you thinking of, my love?” he asked, the term of endearment heating the makeup artist’s face, even after all this time.

“I saw there is a new trend on YouTube, and I thought maybe, later today, if you’re not busy…” he let his voice trail off. Why was he losing his nerve? Did he think that Wakatoshi would say ‘no’? When had he ever told his husband ‘no’? (answer: never, Oikawa was a spoiled brat and he knew it.)

“Is there something you need assistance with?” Ushijima inquired, eyes gold and fixated, his full attention given so freely to his spouse.

“Well...” Oikawa sighed, lowering his spoon to the countertop. “I have seen other make-up artists doing videos lately where they have their significant other do their makeup and it’s supposed to be super cute. And I just didn’t know if that was something you’d be interested in doing?”

In reality, Oikawa wasn’t sure why he was nervous to ask. Maybe it was because his fan base was over 600k now and it was all a bit surreal. He had sponsors for his channel that were sending him new products to review on a weekly basis, and he had even starred in a beauty campaign for NYX Japan which featured several commercials and billboard placements. 

And while Ushijima was proud of his accomplishments, the stoic, quiet man was very reserved and didn’t even talk much in interviews for the Olympics, let alone any other time. So being on screen with Oikawa, whether it was pre-recorded or live, would probably be very much outside of Ushijima’s comfort zone. Not only that, but the giant man didn’t know a thing about makeup, and that certainly wouldn’t help.

“Hmm,” the Olympian considered it in that quiet, reserved way of his, touching his chin carefully, golden-green eyes narrowed in concentration. “Is it acceptable if it is not perfect?” 

A resounding, warm giggle left his lips as he leaned forward to clutch onto his husband’s forearm, the laugh shaking his whole chest. “Of course, Ushiwaka-chan! It’s just for fun.”

A thick, perfect eyebrow raised high on his head, a means of asking a question. “Just for fun?”

Enthusiastically, Oikawa nodded. “Of course, babe! Just do your best and do whatever you want, and we will have fun.” Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Ushijima’s mouth, tasting a bit of the honey that had been drizzled on his toast. “I’ll go set everything up and we can talk more about it.”

*

“Hey everyone!” Oikawa smiled into the camera, giving a demure little wave, naturally long lashes fluttering. “It’s me, Tooru! I am back today with a live video that I thought you would all find super fun.” He was situated in the middle of the camera, up close in an attempt to shield his husband who was sitting patiently behind him.

“It’s going to be...” he began, flashing his best million-dollar smile, “and just a bit different.” 

Without further adieu, he rolled back in his little stool, the plush one he had purchased to use at his vanity. By doing so, he gave the audience a glimpse at the first guest star Oikawa had ever had on his show: his husband. Seated stiffly in one of their kitchen chairs, he had his hands folded in his lap, a series of makeup supplies on a little pullout table beside him. 

“This is my husband, Japanese Olympic volleyball captain, Ushijima Wakatoshi. Waka-chan, will you say ‘hello’?” Tooru smiled broadly, turning back to his spouse. 

Still a bit stiff, Ushijima managed a closed-mouth smile and a small wave. “Hello,” he said in his even baritone.

“Thank you, sweetheart!” Oikawa beamed, knowing full-well he was going to have to do a lot of the talking, at least at the beginning. He had coached Ushijima on what he could talk about while actually putting the makeup on, as there wouldn’t be much Oikawa could say, at least not without messing up his makeup in the process. The taller of the two husbands seemed to understand. “Now, for my viewers,” he began, turning back to the camera, “please be very nice to my Waka-chan, as he is going to do my makeup today. Remember, this is his first time and it is just for fun.”

The comment section was already firing off on the live video, people sending sweet notes that entailed, ‘ _omg! So sweet_ !’ or ‘ _wow he’s so handsome even when not on the court_ ’ or ‘ _this is too good! Can’t wait’_. Oikawa had advised Ushijima to not pay attention to the comment section while he was working, as it would just serve as one more reminder that they had an audience of well… several thousand, which might affect his nerves. An audience didn’t shake him on the volleyball court, but here, he was doing something he had never done before.

“Do you know what kind of look you want to do today, babe?” Oikawa asked, giving his husband’s knee an encouraging squeeze.

As always, the man of many words responded with a confident, “yes”.

“Alright, then let’s get to work. You have the most beautiful canvas to play with.” He smiled wickedly and squared his shoulders, facing the other man completely, a coy and flirtatious flutter to his long lashes.

Even after all their years together, it still rattled something in Oikawa’s heart to hear Ushijima agree, repeating the two words he had said so firmly on their wedding day: “I do.”

As to not cry on camera, Oikawa immediately closed his eyes for just a moment, doing his best to switch gears. After a brief second, he opened them, composed once more. “Alright, friends! I have made a solemn vow to not look over at the mirror or in the camera to try to get an early sneak peek. I won’t see my face until the final product is done. So let’s all have some faith in my husband.” He said all of that while staring dead-ahead at this lover, Ushijima fixed with an expression that was almost unreadable. Which was unusual, at least in Tooru’s case. He thought he had come to memorize even the most subtle of Ushijima’s tells.

“May I begin?” he asked, not a shred of nervousness in his tone.

“Of course, dear. Go for it.”

Nodding, Ushijima reached for the primer first, which was a good sign. In fact, he was actually impressed. Most people, (himself included when he was just a beginner), usually started with foundation, skipping the crucial step. With careful consideration, he pumped a few dollops of it onto his deft fingers. Once he thought he had a sufficient amount, he rubbed the substance between his fingers, working it slowly.

“What are you doing?” Oikawa asked, swallowing thickly, the vision of giving way to memories of _something else_.

“I am warming it up,” Ushijima explained before bringing both sets of fingertips to Oikawa’s high cheekbones, spreading the primer across his skin. Like usual, Tooru could feel himself melting under the considerate touches, the substance pleasantly warm instead of startlingly cold, like when he applied it to his own skin. “I did not want it to be too cool on your skin.”

And just like the primer, Oikawa could feel his heartwarming, his cheeks already flush from the sweet gesture. “Ushiwaka-chan takes such good care of me,” he cooed. At that admission, he could hear the comment section pinging rapidly with what he could only assume were affectionate ‘awws’. 

Once the primer was on completely, the large ace moved onto the next container. It was Oikawa’s foundation, the one that Ushijima had so painstakingly stood in Sephora helping him pick out, weeding through shade after shade, brand after brand. He had several tubes, one for full-coverage and one for a more natural look. To his surprise, Wakathoshi reached for the light-coverage bottle and a small sponge applicator. Without looking up at his husband, Ushijima applied the tannish liquid to the sponge. 

“What do you have there, darling?” Oikawa orated for the sake of the live video.

“Foundation,” he answered in the mechanical way of his, putting the lid back on the tube one-handed while balancing the sponge in the other. When that gold-green gaze met Oikawa’s eye, the breath left his lungs: Ushijima was looking at him with all the balanced sincerity he usually carried on the court. 

Closing his eyes yet again, he hummed as the cool sponge made a connection to his skin, helping to quell the heat that plagued his face. With a steady hand, Ushijima applied the makeup, sponge dabbing here and dabbing there, touching all of his ‘troubled’ spots. He felt his worst area was his under eyes, the damned things taking on a purplish hue when he lacked sleep. 

“What is that tool called, Ushiwaka-chan?” Oikawa asked curiously, peeling an eye open to observe the level of concentration on his lover’s face. 

“A beauty blender.”

Oikawa had a sneaking suspicion that ‘surprised’ was going to be a constant state of emotion for him during this exercise. 

“You’ve paid attention.”

Ushijima only gave a quick sound of confirmation before setting the sponge aside, moving onto his next tool. It was a concealer wand, and Oikawa could only watch, mouth slightly agape as Ushijima unscrewed it, twirled the wand around inside the glass case, before pulling it completely out.

“Close your eyes, Tooru.” His words were quiet yet firm, and Oikawa was quick to oblige. He could feel the wet liquid being applied so diligently to his face, the spiker, being left-handed, starting with the space beneath Tooru’s right eye. Quickly, he moved onto the other side. After a quiet moment, the beauty blender was back in action, smoothing the concealer into his skin. 

“Open.” Once again, Oikawa was quick to listen, eyes fluttering open. Ushijima touched his chin, carefully tilting his head upward, looking at one side, then the other, inspecting his work. 

“How does it look?” There was a shaky quality to his voice he hadn’t been expecting. Perhaps it was a result of being so closely inspected and scrutinized by the man he loved so dearly. They had been in a variety of situations over their years together, but something about this was so startlingly intimate. 

“Perfect.”

“Because of your talents?” Oikawa tried to quip, offering a sharp smirk.

“Because of your natural beauty.” 

Ushijima was not a flatterer. In fact, he was quite famously blunt and abrupt, renowned for being straightforward and honest in any scenario. Never would the stoic ace utter something he thought untrue. Once, he had said Kiyoomi was notorious for being reserved with compliments, and well, Oikawa couldn’t help thinking it took one to know one. Which was why now, the beautiful brunette could feel his whole body trembling under the weight of those words.

Clearing his throat in an attempt to redirect them, Oikawa asked, “what comes next?” 

“Powder,” Ushijima supplied, holding up a little plastic tin. In his other hand was a gorgeous brush, the fat head feathery light and tinged in pink. The handle was in the shape of a unicorn horn, glittery and pearlescent. The tool looked comically small in his large hands, clutched perfectly between thick fingers. The whole sight made Oikawa’s heart clench.

A gentle sigh left his lips as the soft brush head traced his cheeks, his temples, all the way down to his pointed chin. His eyes were open for this portion, watching his husband’s every facial expression closely. Truly, the large man was adorable. Oikawa should have guessed Wakatoshi would take this challenge seriously, as he knew how important the channel, and makeup overall, was to his lover. 

Once that ministration was complete, Ushijima leaned back and admired his work once again, carefully tracing with his eyes the path the brush had just charted. When finally satisfied, he put those aside and moved on to the next.

“You’re taking this quite seriously, my love,” Oikawa couldn’t help but commentate, nearly forgetting the camera was there. Usually, he would be eating up the lens, pouring over comments as they popped up. But now, he felt as though truly he and Ushijima were the only ones in the room.

“I want to make you proud.” He said those words with the faintest carmine color taking to his own face, warming his cheeks, bringing new life to his tanned skin. It was rare for Ushijima to become over-emotional, but even the small gesture made Oikawa smile.

For the next tool, Ushi grabbed the eyebrow pencil. It was a chocolate brown, matching the former setter’s hair color. Usually, Oikawa didn’t do a lot with his brows, but he surmised that his husband had done his homework. With all the delicacy possible for his large hands, Ushijima carefully trailed over the twin, sleek brows placed just above his hazel eyes. The Olympic captain went slow and steady, keeping his movement light. Working around the eyes was a bit dangerous, Oikawa knew. One slip and Waka would poke him with the pencil, which would be a pleasant experience for no one.

“You’re doing an excellent job so far, honey,” Oikawa couldn’t help but praise, still in awe of the skill level his husband was showcasing. It wasn’t an easy task, and as far as Tooru knew, his long-time lover had zero experience in the makeup realm. Where did he learn all of this?

“Thank you,” he replied softly, moving on. He picked up another brush and a medium powder, this time, softly applying it to the apples of Oikawa’s cheeks. 

“You’re doing my blush.”

“Yes.”

Unable to resist being cheeky on camera, he leaned forward and placed both of his long, slender hands on either of Ushijima’s thighs, giving them both an earnest and substantial squeeze. “What if I’m already blushing?” 

From his laptop, the resounding chime of comments flooded the airwaves at that moment. He fought the urge to turn and look at them because he didn’t want to break his promise of waiting until the end to see the final result. Still, he pictured their words in his mind and grinned all the same.

His face was dangerously close to his husband’s, who remained frozen, brush balanced delicately in his left hand. The whole concept was amazing, at least to Tooru. Here was this giant, Greek god of a man who could hit a ball so hard with his dominant hand that it left grown men crying in its wake, yet he could hold a makeup brush with all the fastidiousness of a newborn baby. The duality of Ushijima Wakatoshi never ceased to amaze him.

“I think it is time for your eyeshadow,” he replied a bit coldly, though his own aura was heating up considerably. There was a hungry little glint in those large, calculating eyes, so subtle that the camera would never see it, but Oikawa did. 

“What palette are using today?” 

“It is a surprise. Keep your eyes closed.” 

With a definitive and defiant huff, he listened, pillowing his lips in a signature pout. Once again, Ushijima proved himself to be a man with many tricks up his sleeve as the stoic ace placed a chaste kiss on his sultry mouth, effectively eliminating that pout and fogging over Oikawa’s thoughts. In fact, he could hardly think of anything at all as the brush found his eyelids over and over, Ushijima carefully blending whatever shades he was using. Distantly, he acknowledged the excitable pings of the comment section, but it was nearly inaudible over the pounding of his heart.

“Relax,” Ushijima whispered right against his cheek. The liquid eyeliner was cool against the delicate skin of his eyelids, his whole body simmering with the proximity to his husband. Other than Ushijima muttering a light command here or there, neither man said a word. Oikawa felt like he was in sub-space, being doted on so lovingly, treated just like the canvas that time at the wine and paint night. In his mind’s eye, he could see Ushijima, tongue out, reading glasses on, concentration written in every line and plane of his handsome face. Just when he thought he couldn’t love his husband more, he had gone and done all of this, exceeding every expectation.

“Open.”

There was a haze edging his field of vision, as though he were drunk. But he hadn’t touched a glass of alcohol in days, as he was on a health cleanse. Though there he was, feeling woozy and intoxicated at how Ushijima was looking at him, regarding him, reading him like a well-thought-out play. It left a layer of static electricity burning on his skin.

“One more step,” Ushijima announced, moving for the red tube of mascara. He unscrewed the cap, dipping it a few times back into the base before removing the applicator. Brandishing it as though it were Excalibur pulled from stone, he leaned forward, gently smoothing the wand over thick lashes, darkening them. 

It was no secret that Oikawa’s long lashes were one of Ushijima’s favorite features. Constantly, Ushijima touched them, admiring the heavy fan, leaving tender kisses in the corner of his eyes. Though it was especially true after Tooru got out of the shower, the fine fibers wet and dripping, catching the warm glow of their bedroom lighting. Ushijima revered them, like lines of poetry, memorizing each one. Always, always, always, did the ace leave him feeling so very loved.

“There,” he announced, putting the makeup wand back in the place and setting it with the other beauty supplies on the prep table.

Swallowing thickly, regaining his bearings, he asked quietly, “are you all done.”

A firm nod. “Yes.”

“Can I see?” As an answer, Ushijima repeated the action, giving the affirmative.

Swiveling in his stool to face the mirror, and in turn, the camera, Oikawa caught the perfect view of the awed expression outlined on his features: his makeup was flawless. It was a basic look, sure, but his skin looked so smooth, his cheeks expertly bronzed, his eyeliner masterfully winged. Even the nude shades on his eyelids were carefully blended, the sparkle of the top-most layer shimmering in the glow of the ring light. It was unreal. Despite it being a natural, beginner’s style look, it was executed in such a manner that even a pro cosmetologist would be proud of. 

“Ushiwaka-chan,” he gasped, tilting his chin to catch every angle, “this is…” The rapid pings fired off on the chat, but Oikawa didn’t even hear them. “Where did you learn to do this?”

To that, Wakatoshi chuckled softly, hands folded back in his lap. “From you,” he answered.

“From me?!” Oikawa couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice, whipping his head around to regard his lover.

“Of course. When I was on the road, I watched all of your videos and live streams.” He said it as though it were obvious. Never once had Oikawa ever asked his husband to watch the videos, feeling as though dragging him from store to store or pestering him about the finer details of his hobby was enough. He didn’t want to bother him, make him watch something he wasn’t actually interested in, make him do just _one more thing_. 

“All of them?” His hands were shaking as he brought them up to cup Ushijima’s face.

Wakatoshi’s large hands laid on top of his, pulling him in for a tender kiss. “All of them.”

Oikawa smiled, tilting away from his husband only to turn to his laptop. Several hundred thousand viewers watched him as he flashed a signature ‘V’ to the camera, giving a suggestive wink as he said, “well, I think it’s time to sign off before a makeup program dissolves into something not-so-family-friendly.”

The last thing the live feed heard before the camera cut to black was the breathless _‘I love you’_ Oikawa shared against his husband’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it?! Please leave me a comment and let me know! I love UshiOi so much, and that stoic man is more than meets the eye. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't know a ton about makeup other than the basic looks I can do. I watched a lot of tutorials for this, though, and damn are people talented. Ushi, Oikawa, come do my makeup next?!


End file.
